So Hungry
by Hoodoo
Summary: Suppertime at the Xmansion . . . sillyfic


Disclaimer: standard fare. I don't own the rights to these characters, blah blah blah, no money made, blah blah blah, ad nauseum. Just enjoy the story, folks. Or not—your choice. Let me know, okay?

Ps: I've eaten at both House of Chen and Chow's Village, and what I say is true. House of Chen is better, but Chow's Village lo mein kicks ass!

So hungry . . ..

It was almost six o'clock. Bobby clamped a hand over his grumbling stomach.

"I'm starving! When are we eating tonight?"

"I think the more appropriate question is: _what _are we dining upon tonight?" his blue furred companion answered.

He nodded at Hank. His stomach growled again.

As they made their way to the kitchen, other housemates joined them. Living together not only made them a stronger team in battle, but also gave them a close bond at mealtimes. If someone was hungry, _everyone_ was hungry.

Before anyone start making suggestions, however, Professor Xavier's hover chair floated into the already crowded room.

"So!" he said brightly, clapping his hands together. "What's on the menu tonight?"

Ororo was rummaging through the giant refrigerator.

"There's not much here, Charles," she announced over the hushed crowd. "I could pull together a nice salad—"

Groans. Mostly from Logan.

"—there also seems to be a multitude of, *ahem*, crawdads here—"

"Does be mine!" said Remy happily. "I be more den willin' to steam dem up nice an' hot, Cajun style. Dey be tasty, I guaruntee!"

He was met with not encouraging faces.

"I apologize," Hank voiced with regret. "I prefer not to eat objects whose eyes watch me as I devour them."

Jubilee was less eloquent. "Gross! I'm not sucking out their guts!"

Remy shrugged. "Cest la vie."

The next few minutes were the same. 'Just because we're mutants, just because we're X-men, doesn't mean we aren't like normal people,' Scott thought. 'We can _never _decide what to eat.'

While Ororo was still arguing the merits of a good salad, and Jubilee was insisting they should just get a pizza—"Come _on! _It's got something for, like, _everyone!_—and Logan just wanted a small animal he could stalk and devour at his leisure (Hank made sure he was well out of Logan's reach when he whispered that to Rogue; Rogue almost spit up laughing), and Remy kept insisting, "I gua_run_tee!" because he knew how incredibly silly it sounded, Bobby's stomach complained louder than ever.

"My stomach is eating _itself_ it's so hungry!" he whined. "You know, I haven't had good Chinese for a while."

Instant silence.

Heads perked up.

The din returned.

"I love Chinese!"

"House of Chen, it's the best—"

"No, Chow's Village has better lo mein!"

"How fast do you think they could get here?'

"Should someone go pick it up?"

Professor Xavier roared, "Make a list!" in everyone's head, and shut them up.

For a second.

"Okay, Ororo, you want the vegetable lo mein—"

"How many crab rangoons come in an order? Only _eight?_ Better make it five or six orders—"

"Who wants egg drop soup? Wonton? Okay, okay—"

The order was finally placed. It was promised to be delivered quickly—forty minutes—and then more quickly with the promise of a bigger tip.

Jubilee bounced from window to window in the foyer, watching. Her piercing scream alerted the rest of the X-men—

"Here he comes!"

—to the delivery man's arrival.

He brought boxes and boxes of food. Three trips from the car were needed to bring it all in. Scott helped him bring it to the door, and an assembly line of hands moved the food from the foyer to the dining room.

Finally the delivery man, grateful for the help but unnerved by the number of people declaring they were famished and snatching the boxes away quickly, was done. Now burdened with cash instead of food, he quickly made his exit.

In the dining room, plates, forks and little square boxes of food were being divided.

"Everyone's responsible for their own drinks!"

"I'm making tea," Ororo stated as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Make enough for me!" called Logan after her.

A second of silence.

"You eat Chinese, you drink tea," he muttered weakly.

A burst of laughter, and the babble started again.

"Help yourself to the rice, there's plenty—"

"Who ordered the Dragon and Phoenix—Logan?"

"Nasty—this eggroll is soggy!"

"Pass a fork, please. A fork. PASS ME A FORK!"

"Geez, McCoy, don't blow a gasket—"

"Anyone want chopsticks?"

"Hey—that's my diet Coke! I already drank out of it!"

"Mmm. Crab rangoons. These are the best!"

Eventually the squabbling died away and was replaced with chewing and the occasional stifled burp. After an extraordinarily short time, it seemed, people began pushing themselves away from the table with a groan.

"Oh my god, I'm stuffed!"

"Don't forget the fortune cookies—"

"That's right! Read the fortune out loud, and you have to add 'in bed' at the end. It's hilarious!"

They did, and ended up laughing so hard—Professor Xavier read, "God has blessed you with incredible talents, in bed"—that several of the team insisted they were going to be sick, or pee their pants, or both.

The night was so agreeable that they all made their way to the living room together, instead of heading their separate ways. Jubilee threw a movie into the DVD (Ghostbusters) and Logan changed it (Escape from LA). Hank declined to play a game of cards, and picked up a book. Charles did the same. The rest of the team broke into games of poker and Scrabble.

The commraderie lasted an hour and a half or so, until Logan proclaimed— 

"You know what? I'm hungry."

—and the room erupted into a giant pillow fight.


End file.
